


And there were Multitudes....

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean awakens to find Castiel sitting at the end of his bed with an unexpected anxiety.</p>
<p>(A Valentine's Day 2K13  Prompt Fill)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And there were Multitudes....

             It was late at night when Dean was awakened by a soft rustling noise and found Castiel perched on the end of his bed, his shoulders almost uncomfortably hunched, leaving his wings lank and drooping.  Frowning, he sat up and squinted through the darkness of the room before switching on the lamp.

             ”Cas, you’ve really got to stop just randomly turning up in -“

             ”I didn’t randomly turn up.  I’ve been here.”

             Rubbing his forehead, Dean sighed, “How long?”

             Castiel shrugged limply, which was still an odd sight to have to process when his wings manifested - nothing about it seemed quite anatomically possible, as if the tendons and muscles connected to things that didn’t quite exist within the human body.

             ”Three hours?  Longer?”

             ”Four hours, twenty-three minutes.”

             Dean scrunched his eyes shut and then opened them again.  ”What is it?”

             When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean found himself slipping over to sit behind him on the bed - not close enough to be touching, not until he could accurately gauge his mood - but close enough to see better.  ”C’mon Cas.  We’ve talked about this.  What’s going on?”

             There was a long silence and then in a whisper: “I’ve lost some of my feathers.”

             ”What?”

             ”My feathers.  They’re falling out.”

             Dean blinked at the space between Castiel’s shoulder blades.   _Losing feathers?_ What the hell did that even _mean_?  Do angels moult?  He suspected not, and after a moment, restrained himself from asking why he didn’t just grow them back - he seemed to grow most other things back at least.

             ”How do you know?”

             Again, the limp, dejected shrug.

             ”How many are you _supposed_ to have anyway?”

             Castiel rattles off a number that Dean isn’t certain even exists.

             Sliding closer until he was sitting against the angel’s back, Dean let his hands slip up and over Castiel’s shoulder blades until his fingers grazed the base of his wings, the callused fingertips only barely brushing  the downy feathers at the borders of flesh and manifested Grace.  Castiel stiffened his back beneath Dean’s touch, then relaxed slowly as the other man’s fingers carefully travelled along the length of his wings, a soft gust of breath tapping between his shoulders as Dean began counting each feather one by one.

             It was two hours in that Dean passed out, his face pressed against Castiel’s spine, his fingers still interwoven in the dusky grey feathers of his wings.  Exhaling heavily, Castiel held still, the warmth of the other man’s body being mildly comforting, and reaching out to touch one of his own feathers, he picked up where Dean had left off.

             By early morning, Castiel’s wings were indistinct shadows again, but his eyes seemed a little less shadowed than the night before, and when Dean gave him a questioning look, he simply responded, “All accounted for.”


End file.
